Talk:Corvo Attano/@comment-72.171.24.186-20130627050403
Don't know if any of you have read this but I will post it here anyways. Corvo is an amazing character. He’s just very quiet about it. Let me explain what we know, and what we can infer. I’m frontloading this essay with a lot of pure, hard evidence. Let’s begin with some broad points, shall we? (Fair warning: this essay wound up being 4k words long. Grab a comfy chair) 1. Emily and Jessamine are central to Corvo’s life and supersede his own. Harvey Smith has stated on Twitter that Corvo was given to the Kaldwins as a diplomatic gift from Serkonos. We know that rulers customarily choose their Royal Protectors at age twelve. Thus, it’s likely that Corvo has been groomed for this role or something similar since he was VERY young. He has been taught, since childhood or early adolescence, that Jessamine’s life is literally more important than his own. This manifests as a very strong bond between the two of them; the closeness of Corvo and Jessamine’s relationship is remarked upon many, many times by many, many characters. The level of trust between them seems to have been absolute. Corvo has a similarly close relationship with Emily. His obligation to her is twofold: she’s both the heir to the Empire and thus the secondary person that he has to protect, and the daughter of his dearest friend. Corvo is her father – biologically or not, Emily clearly considers him as such. Look at the drawing she does of him. Look at the way they hug, the way they can (or did) play hide-and-seek. Emily’s trust in him is just as strong as Jessamine’s was: she has constant, unshakeable faith that Corvo will always save her (she’s flippantly confident that he can simply “fight anyone” who tries to stop them getting out of the Golden Cat, she refuses to believe the Pendletons that he’s dead, and she constantly calls for him in Kingsparrow Lighthouse despite being told once again that he’s dead). I’d also like to note that Emily looks up to Corvo so strongly that she models her behavior and outlook after him (High Chaos vs Low Chaos). This bond between Corvo and Jessamine and Corvo and Emily can shade into rabid over-protection. We know that when one of the Pendleton twins insulted Jessamine at a state dinner, Corvo “ejected him” – which I translate as “bodily threw him out the door” – without even pausing to ask who he was. Similarly, both the Outsider and the Loyalists remark that Corvo would never allow Emily to be manipulated by others, and Cecelia complains that Emily is spoiled (“allowed to run wild”). On both counts, it seems that Corvo’s snap judgment is to protect and indulge his charge first and foremost. It’s also important to remember that Corvo hasn’t known much of a life outside of Dunwall Tower. Samuel remarks that although he’s spent many years in Dunwall, he “probably hasn’t” been to the poorer parts of the city (granted, this could be the writers handwaving why Samuel has to explain the street layouts and watch movements to Corvo/the player, but that doesn’t make it less true). Corvo has also never been to the Golden Cat. I think we can safely assume that his world was very closely tied to the Tower and the Royal Family, and that he didn’t have or care to have much contact with the world outside it. In sum, I do not believe it is possible to overstate the shadow and influence that Emily and Jessamine both cast over Corvo’s life. We know that he feels guilty for Jessamine’s death (the “YOU CANNOT SAVE HER” note in the Void, anyone?). The reasons for this are obvious. 2. He was trained to take orders Corvo was likely trained to do what his superiors (Jessamine) needed him to do, and not to think about it too much (a bodyguard who hesitates before getting into the path of a bullet is a poor bodyguard). We can see this training in-game. He does not investigate. He does not question. He seems to take the Loyalists’ plans and intentions at face value; even when these plans are questionable (I still maintain that there is no actual reason to murder Lady Boyle), he still obeys. If he has reservations, he does not express them. At least not where we can see. (It is possible that I’m being too meta here. It’s possible Corvo’s having conversations and arguments with the Loyalists that we as the player are not witness too – no one says we have to play through everything. However, I don’t think this is likely. The Loyalists seem to take Corvo’s cooperation for granted). He’s similarly quick to do whatever Granny Rags and/or Slackjaw ask him to do. Can he refuse? Yes, that’s up to the player. Can he truly argue? No. Arguing is an proactive action, refusal a passive one. Corvo does not take a stand. He does what people tell him to do. This leads into the next point. 3. He’s bad at reading people Corvo trusts people. Rather blindly. Again, he might have reservations, but he doesn’t express or act upon them. I do not think it’s fair to say that Corvo shouldn’t have trusted Burrows and should have anticipated Jessamine’s death. We don’t know much about Corvo and Burrows’s relationship, for one (yes, Burrows complains in his journal that the position of Royal Protector is obsolete, but that’s a slight against Corvo’s job and not Corvo himself). We also have little indication as to how long Burrows spent planning the assassination. Judging by the tone of his confession, and the utter mess he seems to have made of the aftermath, I’m betting it was a fairly rush job. He might not have even started planning until after Corvo had already left on his mission. We cannot blame Corvo for not predicting Burrows’s betrayal. But we can absolutely blame him for not predicting the Loyalists’ betrayal. Havelock begins worrying that Corvo is dangerous or unpredictable almost immediately. Samuel’s flat, dull “congratulations, Corvo” after the Tower mission should be a giant red flag. The creepy, slightly over-enthusiastic way the Loyalists all crowd around Corvo when he takes his celebratory drink should be a giant red flag. You’d think a bodyguard would pick up on subtle cues like this. He doesn’t. Corvo drinks the poison, apparently thinks that the resulting distorted vision is due to exhaustion, and – rather than saying anything or stabbing anyone or anything – goes to sleep it off like a shmuck. Poor. Observational. Skills. (Poor, railroad-y writing? Maybe. But again, let’s not get meta and just work with the game we’ve been given). I’d also like to note that Corvo’s poor observational skills extend to his person: just as he doesn’t pick up on cues that other people give off, he doesn’t seem to pick up on the cues that he himself telegraphs to them. The man has an incredibly obvious blasphemous mark on his hand that people recognize and comment on, but doesn’t think to wear gloves to cover it. He also wears the same coat in the epilogue slides, the “Corvo Attano” wanted poster, and the “Masked Felon” wanted poster; in other words, Corvo is running around wearing a mask to deliberately conceal his identity, but is still wearing what is clearly the Lord Protector’s uniform. Either it doesn’t occur to him that people might notice this, or he doesn’t care. (I understand that this is a very, very meta observation and that Corvo needs to have a visible Outsider’s mark and iconic coat from a character design standpoint. But I still think it’s worthwhile mentioning.) I don’t think it’s fair to say that Corvo isn’t smart, or that he wasn’t good at his job. I do think it’s fair to say that he doesn’t pick up on or employ subtlety very well. Treavor comments that “he’s strong and swift, but I hope he understands subtlety as well,” which seems to imply that he takes Corvo’s physical capabilities as a given but has reservations about his social/planning/deception ones; couple this with his comment that “everyone knows you were screwing the Empress,” and with all of the above, and I think we can safely peg Corvo as someone who’s neither a very adept liar nor good at spotting them. 4. He’s very stubborn and strong-willed Yes, Corvo has incredible physical endurance. The man survives more torture than what two men can usually take, then gets up and fights or sneaks his way out of prison and dives into plague-ridden sewer water with open wounds and is fine. He can take a grenade to the face, he can climb buildings like Ezio; let’s face it, he’s a videogame character, he has healing potions in place of blood. That’s not the type of endurance I’m talking about. This is where I begin throwing the word “principled” around a lot. There was no reason for Corvo not to sign the confession to Jessamine’s murder except pure principle. It’s up to the player what this principle is – stubbornness, professional pride, hatred of lying, whatever. But Corvo has no reasonable expectations of avoiding execution. He has no reasonable expectations of the truth coming to light. He has nothing material to lose, and – as Burrows says – “no one will ever know.” He doesn’t break. The Flooded District is another potential breaking point – he’s had the rug ripped out from under him again, betrayed again, had Emily taken from him again, and been left in the care of his enemies again. He’s got nothing going for him, and no one knows that he’s there; again, “no one would ever know” if he threw up his hands and gave up. He still doesn’t break. His determination and doggedness are commented on in-universe. Samuel says “I knew you’d come back, Corvo, I knew it;” Havelock is utterly certain that Corvo will come for him in the final level, despite the fact that Corvo is supposed to be dead. Corvo just doesn’t stop. It’s rather breathtaking. You can make further arguments about the manner of Corvo’s determination depending on his Chaos level – a Corvo who kills everything is more willing to let the ends justify the means than a nonlethal Corvo, a Corvo who doesn’t kill innocents is more upstanding and cognizant of the future of the Empire than a Corvo who cuts a bloody swathe through Dunwall, and we can debate until we’re blue in the face over whether the nonlethal ways to eliminate targets are “better” or “worse.” What is constant, though, is Corvo’s dedication. His commitment. He does not stop. Even when no one would know otherwise. Even when it would be easy to. By the same token… 5. He seems to be an upstanding man Corvo seems to be quite well-mannered and polite. He’d need to be, to function in court society. We can see hints of this. Wallace comments that he comports himself like a nobility, and there’s that lovely moment when he helps Emily out of the boat at the Hound Pits. Women seem to like him – there’s Lydia’s comment that he’s not rough-around-the-edges like Havelock but “almost a gentleman,” there’s Callista’s comment that she might be interested if it weren’t for the circumstances, and there’s the hint that Geoff Curnow wants to set him up with Callista (i.e., Corvo’s a nice match / the sort of guy you want to bring home to family). It’s a stretch, but it’s also possible to read into the fact that he’s never been to the Golden Cat. The game seems to color men who visit prostitutes (Bunting, all three Pendletons) as pathetic or slimy. It makes a point of pointing out that Corvo is not one of them. It’s also worthwhile to note that the dominant figures in Corvo’s life are women that are technically his superiors – and the fact that he’s seemingly okay with this, in a society as misogynist as Dunwall, is no small feat. Corvo Attano, feminist. And just to reiterate – he’s a really protective and affectionate father to Emily, whether she’s his kid or not. Murders and fates worth than death aside, Corvo Attano is a good man. He’s a noble man in both senses of the word. But I’d like to note that Havelock draws a distinction between Corvo and the rest of the nobility: “don’t be fooled that Treavor’s nobility. Not all of them are snakes”. Now, this might be a comment on Corvo’s skittishness around well-moneyed powerful people like Burrows and Campbell, seeing as they’ve just betrayed him, or on the notorious backstabbing at court; it might also be a comment on the fact that although Corvo’s the Royal Protector, he’s not one of the snakes. He’s not like the other nobles in Dunwall. He’s an outsider. Oh, look. It’s my last point! 6. He’s an outsider Corvo’s Serkonan. He’s lived in Dunwall for much of his life, but no one is like to forget this fact; he’s the first ever foreign Royal Protector, and Daud mentions that he looks Serkonan (which seems to be true, if you compare his portrait to that of every other man in the game). We read a book that brings up his heritage as a contributing factor in his ‘decision’ to kill the Empress; we hear a guard laugh “what are you afraid of? He’s Serkonan. It’s all merchants and whores down there.” It’s safe to assume he’s suffered some prejudice. It’s also safe to assume that he’s not a center-stage sort of person. He’s a bodyguard. As mentioned before, he takes orders; he doesn’t make them, unless he’s yelling at his charge to go hide in the cupboard until the fighting stops. He’s been trained to play second fiddle to Jessamine and to stand in shadowy corners at her back while she drew the spotlight. Note that during the Low Chaos epilogue slide at the Hound Pits, Corvo’s standing off to the side of the celebration, observing. Note that he doesn’t talk. His few written dialogue lines sound a bit melodramatic or stilted (“alright, old man, let’s go,” “you’ll die wondering who I am,” “this is not my fight, but I’ll consider it,” “burn them all, Piero.”). We’re edging dangerously into the realm of meta again, yes – but the fact remains that Corvo, as presented, is a man of very few words. And what words he does speak sound a bit rehearsed. He is not one for talking. This makes sense. It ties in with the fact that Corvo’s had a very sheltered life that revolves around Dunwall Tower and court and doesn’t range far beyond it. It ties into the fact that he doesn’t seem to be good at reading people. Corvo is not a social person. There are other observations to be made, of course. Corvo’s exploits as Lord Protector are legendary (“I’ve seen him fight three to one in the practice yard. He’s a whirlwind;” “you’ve heard the stories, of course”). When he receives the Outsider’s mark, his hand shakes and curls into a tight fist – he’s disturbed. The Heart has one lone line of dialogue about him (“you are like the rivermen. They spread their nets wide, and pull up all manner of things. The sweet, the deadly, the poisonous, all together in one catch”), which might not even be about him so much as his influence on the city, but either way it’s fascinating. But these are my main points. To recap: Corvo is principled, devoted, determined, and stubborn. He is loyal and loving to Jessamine and Emily to a terrifying and potentially blind-spot-creating extent. He is used to taking orders and putting others’ lives before his own; he is used to having that central figure of Jessamine in his life, she is the most important thing in his life and it’s fair to say that Emily takes that role after her death. He is probably not the best at all the subtle intricate games the nobles play, an has probably never fit in perfectly with Dunwall upper-crust society because of his heritage and social reticence. (As a videogame character, he’s also ridiculously deadly). This is what we know, or can safely assume. What does this mean for him during the events of the game? It means that having Jessamine killed was like having his entire world ripped out from under him. During the events of the game, I do not believe that Corvo is a whole, functional, independent person. He is something akin to a walking void. He has had his career, his status, his social network, his family, his home, his everything taken away, and to add insult to injury he’s been blamed for this himself. He is a bodyguard. He is not supposed to live in a world without Jessamine. His entire world has been turned inside out. He is used to living in a world where he takes orders; where he defends, rather than attacks. The role of a bodyguard is reactive; an assassin, proactive. Corvo first has everything he knows stripped away, then he has a sword shoved in his hand and is thrown WILDY outside of his comfort zone. (To whit, I’ve got a lot of feelings about why the premise of “Dishonored is a game about assassination” is utterly false and why the point/challenge of the game is remembering that Corvo is not an assassin. But that’s another post). I don’t think Corvo functions well when he’s outside his comfort zone. We already know he’s a bit of an outsider. I think he is able to grit his teeth and do what needs to be done (that determination), but I don’t think he likes to stop and think about the mess his life has become at all. His role is gone. His life is gone. His family is gone. The entire purpose of his life, gone. His job, gone; he goes out and kills the innocent, now, rather than protecting them. He’s got no idea who he is or what he’s living for. What’s left? What keeps this guy going? Jessamine’s memory? But that’s not something to look forward toward. Revenge? If that were the case, Corvo would stop functioning after Burrows was dead. Oh yeah. Emily. A ten-year-old girl who is just as devoted to Corvo as he is to her. A little girl who believes that he can do no wrong. Who has all the faith in Corvo that Corvo himself has probably lost. Corvo may not believe that he’s worth much, at this point, having failed in his job and lost his purpose and had his name dragged through the filth; but he believes Emily is worth something, and Emily believes he is worth something, and… they become each other’s crutch. They become each other’s light in a very dark time. The potential for this relationship to turn unhealthy and codependent is ridiculous, as Corvo is likely to develop serious trust issues by the endgame. The man has been utterly betrayed by a friend and coworker, Burrows, tortured mentally and physically, and then rescued by a seemingly sincere group of allies who he trusts blindly… only to have them betray him in a similar manner. Just as Corvo does not react well to change, I don’t think he’d react well to betrayal. We know he trusts easily. We also know that he’s intensely principled and stubborn. Combined, this suggests someone who holds a hell of a grudge when his trust is broken. Add this to the paranoia he’s cultivated as a bodyguard, and I think that by the endgame Corvo would be very wary of letting people close (either to him or to Emily). This is where Chaos becomes important. A Low Chaos Corvo has a support network after the endgame. He’s got Cecelia, Callista, Samuel, Piero, Sokolov, and possibly Geoff Curnow all alive and well. He’s got people he already trusts. High Chaos? He’s got… well, Emily. Emily, who has learned from his cues and become just as ruthless and paranoid as him. And that’s pretty much it. He’s got the central figure in his life to whom he can serve as Royal Protector and channel all that fierce devotion toward, but nothing else. Whoops. Low Chaos Corvo can heal and trust and move on. Eventually. High Chaos Corvo? Can’t. This is, however, something I’ve already articulated at great length through fanfic. I am losing my point. My point is that Corvo is someone who’s life has been constructed around a single person and a set role and who finds himself utterly lost when said person and role are taken away. He is subservient, unquestioning, obedient, quiet. He’s the lone dark stranger in the corner, except he’s not like his early concept art with the cloak and the cool Stetson; he’s not in the corner because it’s mysterious, but because he’s uncomfortable in the spotlight. He’s not a Type A personality. He’s a Type B. He is a bodyguard, not an assassin. He has always existed in relation to others. Even when his status as Royal Protector is stripped away, he still defers and he still trusts and he still doesn’t question, and he still needs Emily to drive himself. He is not comfortable being thrust into the role of protagonist. It is no wonder that every twist in the plot is set in motion by his failure, rather than his success. From what we can tell, he is also an extremely caring (if overprotective) father and a wonderful… well, whatever his relationship is with Jessamine, they care about each other a lot and trust each other implicitly. He does not sway from his beliefs. He does not give up. Corvo has a heart, and I don’t just mean the clockwork one in his pocket. Yes, he’s a bit of a blank slate character, but this is not because his character doesn’t exist. It’s because the Corvo that we see in the game is not truly Corvo. He is not a functional person; he’s not a whole person at all. He’s a Corvo who’s lost direction in life. He’s a Corvo who’s had his life ripped away and is trying to figure out what to fill the hole with. Of course he’s ill-defined; of course we players can’t quite figure out who he is. He doesn’t know either. He is a character who goes through a horrible amount of trauma, pain, and betrayal, but whose trauma is not the focus of the story because he just has to learn to live with it.